


Harry's Vendetta

by lotsandnoneatall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, V for Vendetta (2005), V for Vendetta (Comic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:10:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotsandnoneatall/pseuds/lotsandnoneatall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry, astray from his loyal friends, is seemingly alone in his fight against Lord Voldemort. But a strange man may just be the key to the uniting of Harry and his friends and followers, and even the defeat of the Dark Lord himself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. November 5th

            Harry Potter looked outside the apartment’s cracked window. He squinted as he scanned the poorly lit street. No one was in sight. Harry drew the curtains closed again and grabbed his jacket from the bed.

            Quietly, he closed the door behind him as he exited the building. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. His breath was visible in the night air.

            “Come on, I’m _starving_.” Harry heard voices from around the corner. “Shit,” he whispered to himself. He had forgotten his invisibility cloak in his apartment. He looked around—there was no means of escape, only an overflowing dumpster. “Wait a minute, I think I saw a shadow. Quick!” The padding of the strangers’ footsteps were dangerously close as Harry jumped into the grimy dumpster and shut the lid.

            “I don’ see nuffink,” a different voice complained.

                        “ _Shhh!_ ”

Harry peered out of the crack between the dumpster and its lid. Three Snatchers stood before him.

            “They couldn’t have gotten far,” the first voice snarled. The owner of the voice slowly turned around and observed the small alleyway. Upon spotting the dumpster he narrowed his eyes and bared his fang-like teeth into a frightening smile. Fenrir Greyback reached for his wand.

            But Harry hand his wand ready first. “ _Immobulus_!” he shouted. He scrambled to lift the lid of the dumpster.

            “ _Crucio_!” one of the other men shot the deadly spell at Harry’s head, but missed.

                                    “ _Petrificus Tota_ —Agh!” The _Cruciatus_ curse streamed out of the third man’s wand and hit Harry in the center of his chest. He writhed and gasped in pain.

            “The multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon him…”

                        The _Cruciatus_ curse broke as the Snatcher spun around to find the source of the voice. “What the hell…?”

                                    “And fortune on his damned quarrel, smiling, showed like a rebel’s whore.” The cloaked stranger slowly lifted his head, revealing an eternal smile painted on a pale mask. The remaining two men raised their wands.

            “But all’s too weak; for brave Macbeth… Well he deserves that name...”

                                    “Bloody freak. _Avada_ —“ The Snatcher’s wand flew out of his hands as the masked figure theatrically waved his hand. “Which smoked with bloody execution,” he continued. He put one hand on the Snatcher’s shoulder and swiftly pinched his neck with the other.

            “Agh!” the man dropped to his knees and grasped his neck in pain.

                                    “ _Stupefy_!” Harry regained enough strength and control to hit the last Snatcher as the unknown man approached the still Fenrir Greyback.

                        “Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel, like valour’s minion, carved out his passage….”

            He crouched down and looked down at the staring and unmoving face. He touched Greyback’s claw-like hand with his own gloved one.

“…Till he faced the slave, which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him.”

A small rubber duck lay in Fenrir Greyback’s open hand as the man in the mask turned to Harry, who was still panting on the ground.

            “Come, Mr. Potter.” He extended his arm, and Harry took his hand.

They were somehow shooting upwards until they reached the roof. Shakily, Harry looked down at the scene below. He flinched as the rubber duck exploded, fire and debris covering the entire alleyway in which Harry had been just seconds before. Harry looked back at the disguised man.

“Thanks, uh…”

            “You may call me V.”

“Thanks, V. I’m guessing you’re not going to turn me in?” Harry said.

“You guess correctly. But may I ask what you were doing alone, after curfew, without your beloved cloak?” V retrieved something from behind his back and threw it to Harry.

“My invisibility cloak? How did you—“

            “I do not need a cloak to become invisible, Harry.”

            Harry stared.

                                    “Nor do I need to be Albus Dumbledore.”

                        “Oh. So you’re not--?”

                                    “Unfortunately, no.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

                                    “May I show you something?” V asked.

                        “I suppose…”

                                    “We’ll have to use these,” V gestured to two brooms laying on the rooftop nearby.

                        “That’s fine,” Harry nodded. “Quite nice, actually…”

                                    “Yes, I’ve heard you were quite a skilled Seeker. It must have been a while…”

                        They mounted the surprisingly new brooms, and Harry followed V as they soared past the multitudes of shabby apartment complexes and up into London’s night sky.  After around twenty minutes, V started his descent.

            Was this a trap? Harry had flown here before. Last time he had turned out to be one of the worst nights of his life. The night Sirius had died.

            To come here was sure to be another mistake. It was crawling with Death Eaters and a high concentration of people all looking for the same person—Harry.

            But he decided to trust V. He had saved him, and there was hardly anywhere else for him to go…

            They landed approximately a mile from the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. The building itself was no longer concealed, now that Lord Voldemort was the ruler of the magical people, and all others, for that matter. Muggles were no longer oblivious of the magical world. The camouflage of magical traces was no longer allowed, let alone necessary.

            The immense towers and structures of the Ministry could plainly be seen even at this distance. “What are we doing here? It’s rather dangerous, isn’t it?” Harry said to V.

                        “You will see. It is clear, perhaps most to you than anyone alive, that the state of our world has been warped and twisted, nearly beyond repair. But tonight calls for a break from our constant strain; tonight calls for a little _celebration_.”

            V and Harry continued to gaze at the Ministry. The clock tower’s bell rang out—it was midnight. V began to speak, as if reciting a poem:

                        “Remember, remember, the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot, I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason…”

            _BOOM!_ A bright light appeared from the Ministry.

                        “Should ever…”

            Bright lights of color came from every window as the explosion engulfed the building.

                        “…be…”

            Almost the whole building was yellow and black with fire and smoke. Fireworks streamed up into the sky: some Muggle-made, some Weasley dragons, and one, large red _V_.

            “ _…forgot._ ”


	2. The Shadow Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry enters V's home for the first time.

_“I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink_

_I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink_

_I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink_

_No ,no, no._

_I'm so tired I don't know what to do_

_I'm so tired my mind is set on you_

_I wonder should I call you but I know what you would do….”_

           

“Is that… The Beatles?” Harry looked at V. “I thought the Death Eaters burned all the Muggle music.”

            “Not all of it.”

“Where are we?” Harry gazed at the enormous painting of four the same pictures of Marilyn Monroe, each a different color.

            “We are in the Shadow Gallery. This is my home. Do you like it? I built it myself, you know.” V put his hands on the back of a chair and gazed at the Andy Warhol painting along with Harry.

                        “Yeah, it’s brilliant,” Harry gave a genuine yet weak smile.

            “So, Mr. Potter. What have you been up to?”

                        Harry swallowed. “Hermione and Ron and I—I assume you know who they are—broke into the Ministry a few months ago… We were almost caught. We got away, but somehow, when we were Apparating, we were separated. I don’t know where they are.” Harry idly browsed through a pile of records. “I’ve been trying to find them, to make sure they’re okay… But I haven’t. And I’ve been trying to find—“ Harry hesitated.

                                    “The rest of the Horcruxes?” V finished Harry’s sentence.

                        “So… you know?” Harry raised his eyebrows and looked away from the records and at V.

                                    “Oh yes. And I think I can help you, Harry. I can help you find Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley. I can help you find and destroy the remaining bits of Voldemort’s wretched soul.”

                        Harry straightened and gripped his wand.

                                    “Don’t worry,” V put his hands behind his back and strode casually across the room, stopping at a bookcase. “The taboo doesn’t work in here. I have several tricks up my sleeve, as the saying goes.”

                        Harry nodded, and loosened his hold.

                                    “But you must realize, Harry, that I require a favor if I am to aid you in your quest. Do you accept this?”

            “What’s the favor?” Harry knitted his brow.

                                    “I will tell you when the time is right.”

Harry did not reply right away; he thought to himself silently. He needed to find Hermione and Ron. He _really_ needed to find and destroy Voldemort’s horcruxes. He didn’t know where to start, especially on his own.

            “Er—I suppose that’s alright. You’re sure you can help me?”

                                    “Yes.”

            Harry nodded.

There was silence as V picked out a book and flipped to a specific page. Harry sat down in a rather extravagant armchair. He laid his wand on his lap and rubbed his eyes. V shut the book and faced Harry.

                        “I’m sorry, you must be quite exhausted, all this running and hiding and searching. Would you like a place to sleep?”

            Harry yawned. “Um—sure, thanks.”

Harry followed V into a hallway and entered a small bedroom with a fluffy bed. A black-and-white picture of a man jumping over a puddle was hanging over the headboard.

                        “I believe there are pajamas in top drawer,” V gestured to a dresser opposite the bed. “’A thousand times goodnight.’”

                                    “Er, right. Goodnight.”

V tipped the hat to Harry before withdrawing back into the hallway.

            Harry only bothered to exchange his jeans for a pair of pleasantly worn sweats. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, he could hear the muffled voice of Paul McCartney’s voice:

_“Born a poor young country boy--Mother Nature's son_

_All day long I'm sitting singing songs for everyone._

_Sit beside a mountain stream--see her waters rise_

_Listen to the pretty sound of music as she flies._

_Find me in my field of grass--Mother Nature's son_

_Swaying daisies sing a lazy song beneath the sun._

_Mother Nature's son…”_

Harry slept soundly for the first time in a long time.

\---

Harry’s grumbling stomach woke him up the next morning. He groggily reached for his glasses from the bedside table, and put on his pants. He sniffed the air—toast.

            “Morning,” Harry greeted V awkwardly.

                        “Hello. Would you like some breakfast?”

            “Very much so, thanks.”

It was hard for Harry not to just inhale his food; he hadn’t had a true meal since Bill and Fleur’s.  After the last bite, Harry looked at V.

            “Who are you?” he asked.

                        “Me? I’m the king of the twentieth century. I’m the bogeyman. The villain. The black sheep of the family.”

            “Um,” Harry said uncomfortably.

                        “I know what you meant. But my name and history isn’t relevant right now. Now, I’m a concept, an idea, a _symbol_. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you my story… No, I _will_ tell you my story.”

            “Alright,” Harry fiddled with his wand. After a moment’s pause, he spoke again. “How do you know where Ron and Hermione are?”

                        “I don’t.”

            “But you said—“

                        “I said,” V interrupted, “that I could help you find them. And I shall.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest again, but his pocket suddenly vibrated. His brow furrowed, Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved the source of vibration—his fake Galleon from the D.A. As he held it up, it vibrated again, and glowed. A string of numbers on its false barcode also glowed: 31, 10, 19, 81.

                        “What do those numbers mean?” V asked, almost eagerly.

            “When we were having secret Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons in fifth year, Hermione used these fake coins to tell members the date of the next meeting.”

                        “So… The thirty-first of October, 1981? Halloween?” V mused.

            “Yes…” Harry trailed off. After a few seconds, Harry’s eyes flickered up to V’s eternally smiling face. “She’s in Godric’s Hallow. I don’t know if Ron’s with her, but… She has to be there.”

                        “Why? What happened in Godric’s Hallow on Halloween—oh.” V understood. Harry nodded.

                        “The night my parents died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The songs are "I'm So Tired" and "Mother Nature's Son" by the Beatles.  
> -V references "Romeo and Juliet" by William Shakespeare when he says goodnight to Harry.  
> -I used a lot of V's dialogue from the original "V for Vendetta" graphic novel. If you haven't read it yet, I highly suggest you do! (It isn't necessary to understand this story, it's just a really good book)  
> -Comment and kudos if you want!  
> -The first painting is the famous artwork by Andy Warhol.  
> -The photograph in Harry's room is a famous Henri Cartier-Bresson "decisive moment" photograph.


End file.
